


[lyrics go here]

by FiveTail



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Relationship, Hermaphroditic Xenobiology, M/M, NSFW, PWP, Sexual Content, Xeno, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveTail/pseuds/FiveTail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with neighbouring chairs, two laptops, and a shared glass bottle of Jones Soda©, Orange & Cream.</p><p>[Underage warning because John and Karkat are 16 in this fic.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	[lyrics go here]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone.
> 
> My name is Fivetail.
> 
> I run Communist-Teenage-Boys over on Tumblr.
> 
> And I think it's time for me to admit I have a problem.

It starts with neighbouring chairs, two laptops, and a shared glass bottle of Jones Soda©, Orange & Cream. The cap lies face-up on the table, poolwater blue fortune reading,

_With renewed energy, accomplish what you can._  


The current discussion of a Hollywood classic's cinematic integrity is interrupted by a generous swig of soda, buck teeth catching on the spirals twisting around the tip of the bottleneck. John's opposite hand is on his mouse, _click-click-click_ ing around the abandoned apartment of a stylish stranger. Some installment from _The 10 Best Escape The Room Games_ is splayed across his screen. He can't remember which number they're on. They've already played through several.

"Found the corkscrew," Karkat mumbles from off to the right, and the troll shifts in his chair. "But why the hell doesn't John McClane just retire? I seriously doubt his employment at the New York City Police Department provides sufficient emotional fulfillment to make up for how much fuckery he has to put up with on a constant basis. He's canonically _admitted_ to this lack of fulfillment before. Is he allergic to his own fucking happiness, or is he just stupid?"

"Woah woah _woah_ , show some respect for The Bruce, alright? He has been through a lot! McClane sticks to his guns because he's _McClane_ , Karkat, this is not a difficult concept to understand. Being a hardened cop and an anti-hero plagued with personal everyday tragedies is in his blood! If _he's_ not there to save a school filled with children or to defend the United States government's virtual systems from hot hacker ladies and foreign parkour experts, then who will? I'm outside, by the way."

Karkat rolls his chair over, leaning against John's arm to steal a glance the other boy's monitor. "Where did you find--"

John pushes his face away. "No looking, cheater!"

"Holy shit, _fine_ ," he growls against John's palm.

" _Besides_ , John McClane would _not_ throw in the towel just because he's had a couple of bad days. I am pretty sure he could get his mangrit license revoked for that."

"What the hell, they actually make licenses for that?"

"Yes, absolutely. They are bright red and laminated and you are required to show them as proof that you are legally allowed to break laws. Why do you think McClane never gets in trouble for all the damage he causes or all the people he kills? Mangrit license."

"Fuck, all your stupid action movies make sense, now."

"Done!"

The look of horror on Karkat's face only adds to John's swell of pride.

"...are you SHITTING me? _How_?"

"Because I am the best at weird puzzle stuff. It is me."

"No fucking kidding. I swear to god, you're like an idiot savant when it comes to this sort of crap."

John pulls Karkat into a chokehold. Their seats crash together. John rubs his knuckles against a spot between Karkat's horns; Karkat bursts into a flurry of half-squeaked curses, John barks his laughter.

Poolwater blue bottlecap intentions are lost on John Egbert. He has never placed faith in fortune, for he has never believed in putting stake within the magic of vague uncertainty. _You have to make your own magic_ , he'd say, his eyes twinkling beneath the dim orange glow of cheap Chinese restaurant lanterns as he leans over and makes a fortune-cookie-paper-slip-origami-star slip out from behind Karkat's left ear.

Snap back to Karkat struggling away from John's unrelenting noogie, one the troll would have been able to slip out of much earlier if he chose to utilize any of his actual strength.

"SPIN YOUR ASS BACK AROUND, NEXT ONE'S A TIEBREAKER."

"Dude, you said that the last three times."

"DO IT, EGBERT."

"I'm going to win one, then you're going to win one, then I'm going to win one, then you're going to win one and demand a tiebreaker that I end up winning and you end up mad about. I am tired of breaking all these ties! Do you have any idea how far away Father's Day is?"

"THE SESSION IS CALLED MYSTERY OF TIME AND SPACE. TWENTY LEVELS. LET'S GO."

"Karkaaaat!" John slouches in his seat, pouting. "C'mon, we've been at this for hours! I am bored."

Karkat flashes John a passive glance before turning back to his husktop. "Like there's something better we could be doing right now."

"There are plenty of things!"

"Name _one_."

John waves his hand in frustration. A firm breeze spins Karkat's chair back around; Karkat barely registers John's hands on his armrests before the boy leans in to kiss him.

A held breath. A soft moan of a sigh.

John pulls away, hovering in place a few inches off the ground.

Karkat's fangs poke against his lower lip when he smirks.

Karkat Vantas has never thrown a fortune away. He pockets the tiny origami stars and plucks the silver bottlecaps from the top of the recycling and he hoards them, keeps them tucked away in a box of superstition buried deep inside a part of his closet John will never see.

There's something different about the way John's kissing him now, something different about how John tugs the front of Karkat's long-sleeved shirt and drifts backwards to lead the troll up and out of his chair. Every reservation is being tossed into the open, poolwater blue promises spilling across the floor like legos Karkat tries hard not to step on.

_Fortune smiles upon you at this time._

The shorter boy raises himself on his toes to keep up with John's pulling away. John's lips are just brushing across the surface of his own, teasing, not nearly as close as they should have been.

_You will soon experience great happiness._

Impatient, Karkat jumps up to throw his arms around John's neck; John giggles and spins him around in mid-air, pressing hard into another swift kiss that makes their teeth click together, and they are tangled in a floating mess of overbites and smiles.

_Wear a shirt inside-out._

Once, Karkat accidentally slipped his hand up John's shirt while they were kissing, and John actually let him keep it there, four nervous fingers curling softly along the side of John's waist, a thumb half-dipped into his bellybutton. Things screeched to a halt when John held Karkat's waist in return and began asking extensive questions about the weird fleshy indents trailing down the sides of the troll's body, three on each side, healed-over sockets where Karkat's grub legs used to be before he'd cocooned at one and a half sweeps. This lead to mutually curious poking and prodding and talks about growing up, by the end of which they'd both completely forgotten about making out and wound up going to get Slurpees instead.

They'd gotten even closer another time, when a particularly charged scene from _Mr and Mrs Smith_ lead to a pretty intense makeout session that ended in both a broken vase and John's ruined pants. They spent the remainder of the day trying to piece the former back together. ( _"There's nothing to be sorry about, John." "I don't blame you, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are pretty fucking attractive for a human couple." "We can get another vase, I'll tell Kanaya I strangled the one she gave us in a fit of religious excitement or something."_ ) John was so ashamed about the ordeal it had taken him four days to bring himself to look Karkat in the eyes again.

There is no shame in the way John Egbert's hands now encroach upon the forbidden territory that was Karkat Vantas's rear end.

They had done things together in the past. Little things. Simple things. Things that did not warrant the use of a bedroom, ever.

But Karkat feels the foot of a mattress touch the nameless patch of skin behind his knees, and his heart thumps as if it were trying to make a daring escape by bursting out of his chest cavity.

"Oh," Karkat mumbles against John's soft, insistent lips, "fuck."

John releases control of their flight. He topples on top of Karkat, both of them landing in the cushiony embrace of a fluffy ghost-patterned blanket. Karkat moves and pins John beneath him before dipping in to land another kiss, but John quickly rolls over and does the same, holding Karkat to the bed by his shoulders and pushing their lips together. Karkat tries to reclaim his former position. John ends up accidentally tossed off the bed.

_Thud._

John breaks into a gigglefit upon impact.

Karkat scrambles to peek over the side of the mattress. He means to ask if John is alright, but inexplicably exclaims, "Shitfuck!"

"Smooooooooth, Karkat. Real smooth."

John's laughter dies down and he still has this doofy, endearing grin plastered across his face as he stares back up, eyes wide and innocent. Karkat can hear his own resolve creaking under the pressure of elegant Egbertian charm.

"Hey, Karkat."

"What?"

"Can I touch your horns?"

The worry evaporates from Karkat's face. He raises an eyebrow. "Depends, can I fondle the top of your head for no real fucking reason whatsoever?"

John sits up and moves Karkat to lie down, crawling to lay over him as he plants Karkat's hands on either side of his head. Lying on his back, the troll rolls his eyes and begins rubbing his fingers through John's hair, anyway.

John reaches to touch Karkat's horns. "They're so smaaaaall."

"Wow, no shit! Thanks for the insight, Captain Obvious of the USS Douchefuck."

"I like 'em."

"Oh. Okay, I'm glad you like my nub horns."

"I do! All that polishing you do really pays off."

"...I do not fucking _polish_ them."

"I saw you doing it in the bathroom just this morning, Karkat. With a washcloth. The green one."

"No."

"Is that a thing for trolls? Horn-polishing? Humans have a lot of weird stuff they do to look better, too, I mean, I get it."

"Stop talking."

"Do trolls have, like, actual horn polish?"

"John."

"Do troll markets carry it in the troll beauty section of troll Walmart?"

"For fuck's sake, like I'm going to know what half this shit is just because you sprinkle 'troll' in there like a word from a cross-cultural syntactic fucking spice rack. Protip, bulgemunch, Alternian language has a much more complicated recipe than your feeble mind could possibly begin to comprehen--"

John moves down to the very base of Karkat's horns, gently scratching his scalp.

_Chirrp-chirrp-chirrp._

Karkat grabs a nearby pillow and forces it over his mouth. It does little to stifle the quiet, sharp clicks fading in and out from the depths of his throat.

"...oh my god."

"Holy fuck, this isn't--"

"You sound like a big cricket!"

"--swear to god this hasn't happened in forever--"

"Crickat."

"--so fucking sorry."

"Nooooooooo, why are you apologizing?"

"Because this is stupid immature wiggler bullshit I was supposed to outgrow _three fucking sweeps ago_ , and--"

"I think it's pretty--"

"If you say ‘cute', I swear on my lusus's open grave I will find a way to permanently affix my fist to your temple so that I am not forced to suffer another torturous minute of existence free from the sensation of me punching you in the face."

John squishes Karkat's cheeks together, and pecks him on his fishlips.

" _Cute_."

Grey fists ball tightly in the front of John's shirt, and Karkat lifts his head to press John into a deeper kiss. Humming softly, John teases the other boy's mouth open and steals inside, sliding their tongues together while minding the troll's fangs. Karkat knits his brow together; John tastes like warmth and low moans and Orange & Cream and it makes the troll's entire body sigh. The soft vibrations of Karkat's chirping spill into John's mouth and John breaks away, snickering.

"That tihihiiickles."

"Shit, sorry."

"Why do you sound like a _cricket_ , though? You're making me feel like I just told you a bad joke or something."

"Your face is a bad joke."

"Ouch. Way to stab me right in the feelings."

Karkat starts clicking louder on purpose before moving down to kiss a familiar spot below John's ear. John hugs him by the shoulders, snorting in Karkat's hair to stifle his own laughter. Karkat shifts under him and gently licks the side of John's neck. His tongue's too dry and it feels a little like sandpaper, but it's not all that unpleasant; the tingling makes John shudder and he hugs Karkat even tighter, the corner of his glasses catching on Karkat's left horn and knocking them crooked.

Karkat rests his hands on John's lower back, and John's smile fades to quiet breathing.

"Too high says, 'I just wanna be friends'," mentions John.

"Too low says, 'I just wanna grab some ass'," replies Karkat, and he whispers it in John's ear like a secret.

A small smile tugs at the ends of John's lips, even though he feels Karkat's kisses easing up, even though he already knows where this is going. It's moments before one of them loses interest and suggests something completely unrelated--a movie title, a video game, a walk to the corner store and a sudden craving for beef jerky--but somehow, John doesn't really want that to _happen_. They've always pushed one another to this curious little threshold, a hazy limbo that makes John's head swim and his heart flutter in a weird way, and he doesn't want to lose this, not this time.

John feels his nerves bristle in anxiousness beneath his skin. Something warm flickers inside of him, urging him to move _forward_ ; he breathes in the scent of Karkat's hair and his voice slips out, hushed and hurried and embarrassed.

"...hey, Karkat."

"What?"

"CanImakelovewithyou?"

Karkat's heart starts pounding inside his head.

This has always been a possibility, a great big neon musclebeast in the room named 'sex' that sheer apprehensiveness has lead the both of them to ignore, but now that musclebeast is swinging from the light fixtures and pissing on the carpets and using flowery, romantic vernacular for something that becomes vaguely grotesque if you think about the mechanics of it for too long.

'Make love'.

That's how John phrases it.

Karkat is suddenly glad their faces are hidden away from one another because he's smiling like a goddamned idiot.

It's one hell of a segue from five minutes ago when their biggest worries were strategy games and technical discussions about _Die Hard_ , but now he was _here_ and this was _it_ and holy shit, since when has John ever sounded so shy?

"Are you sure we're ready for that because that is fucking huge."

"I know."

"The firey red globe that is the physicality of my soul-consuming rage and self-loathing pays its respects to the orbiting moon of Just How Fucking Huge This Is."

"Okay, it's not _that_ huge." John shrugs the shrug of the cool and nonchalant. The shade of pink blossoming in his cheeks gives him away. "It's a pretty normal thing that a lot of people do together and since we've been going out for a while now I thought maybe..."

"You thought maybe you could get into my pants."

"Oh." John goes quiet. "You mean you've _never_...thought about..."

"I didn't say that," Karkat says quickly. Too quickly.

John picks up on it at once. It's written all over his smug-ass grin.

"Karkat," he starts, slowly, "exactly how many times _have_ my pants extended a party invite to your thoughts?"

"Zero. They're too busy trying to stay around your abnormally tiny fucking waist with a belt made for human children two sweeps younger than you."

"Hey, _you_ don't get to make fun of my belt-finding problem. You wear skinny jeans, for god's sake."

"Shut up."

" _Skinny jeans_ , Karkat."

"THEY ARE COMFORTABLE AND FORM-FITTING."

"Right."

Karkat finds himself rubbing John's head again for no real reason. "So are we doing this because we're together or because you want to finally check off the 'ascend from virginity' box on your mangrit license application?"

"Well. Both." John lets his eyes slip shut. He relaxes against Karkat's massaging hands, and he sighs, happily. "But more important than either of those things--or even both of those things combined!--it is also because I love you a whole lot."

"...oh, that was good."

"You think so? That wasn't too forceful or anything?"

"No way, I am fucking swooning all over the place right now."

"Okay. Cool."

There's awkwardness in the way they sit up and face one another with a newfound common goal, trying to draw powerpoints of sexy reference and allure from memory, but only turning up with pie charts of romantic cinema and bar graphs of dirty comments on YouTube. Seduction didn't exactly come with a handguide, after all, no matter what the cursive pink titles in the romance section of the bookstore lead Karkat to believe.

Eventually, Karkat edges forward, and all of a sudden they're kissing again, tongues touching and noses bumping and bodies colliding together.

Karkat's chirping had died down almost completely and he's already making other noises to overpower it, hitching breaths and little, quiet moans that were out of his control, noises he's never made before that instantly send John's mind spinning.

John's wearing one of those printed t-shirts that makes it look like he's got headphones around his neck; Karkat always thought the idea was stupid and he honestly couldn't wait to get rid of the damn thing.

One of the oldest tricks in the aforementioned non-existent handguide of seduction was to yank the other's shirt off with one swift, sexually frustrated movement--Karkat tries, really, but said shirt gets very _un_ sexily stuck on John's head and suddenly John's laughing with his arms in the air and his face buried in his shirt and in that moment Karkat knows that all life is awful and all gods are cruel.

" _Smooooooooooooth_."

"OH MY GOD SHUT UP."

"Wait wait--don't rip my shirt, okay, this is one of my favourites!"

"Okay, fuck, just hold still."

"Ow ow ow--dude, you're pulling my hair--"

"I SAID HOLD THE FUCK STILL, I'M TRYING TO GET YOU OFF."

John's shirt pops over his head, taking the boy's lenses with it.

Karkat falls backwards onto the mattress, going still and looking a little horrified.

He offers John his glasses back, unblinking.

"...I meant. It. Get _it_ off you. The shirt."

His dark fluffy hair a complete mess, John slides his glasses back on, biting his lip as red flares in his cheeks.

"What, don't you wanna get me off, too?"

Karkat straightens up and decides there has never been a more arousing phrase to tumble out of John Egbert's stupid, perfect mouth.

"Fuck _yes_ , I do."

They meet each other halfway for another heated kiss. John grabs the ends of Karkat's oversized turtleneck, dragging the fabric up to expose the troll's stomach and chest, but for some reason, Karkat keeps his arms tucked in, preventing John from removing it all the way.

"...Karkat."

"Mmrrr."

"Karkat."

"Mmmmmrrrrph."

John giggles and kisses Karkat's temple. "Lemme take your shirt off."

"Can I leave it on? It's cold in here."

"Oh! Okay, I don't see why not. It's not an official rule we have to be totally naked or anything, I guess. How about this."

John tucks the turtleneck back down and slides his fingers blindly up the shirt, instead. Karkat squeaks from how cool John's hands are, but they warm up as John explores him under his shirt, touching the slits down Karkat's sides, the scar on his side from where he'd been stabbed, the smooth spots where his belly button and nipples should've been, but weren't.

John pulls away to snicker again.

'Nipples'.

Smirking, Karkat knits his fingers behind John's neck. "What's so funny, jackass?"

"Nothing, it's--" John meets Karkat's gaze. "Dude, are you okay? Your eyes are. _Massive_."

"No they're not," he mutters quickly.

Too quickly.

Karkat lets his eyes fall half-lidded as a dark grey blush shades his nose.

"...ooooh, I get it. So are big pupils the equivalent of, like. Troll boners?"

"OKAY SUDDENLY I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE."

"Nononononono come back, it's okay!" John laughs. He hugs Karkat around his neck and rolls around the bed to keep him in place. "I like you! All of you! Even your weird alien eye boners."

Sighing roughly, Karkat makes a brave reach for John's buckle in an effort to change the subject.

"Ah," John says, and he sounds stupid and dumb, much to Karkat's satisfaction.

Karkat tries to concentrate on the subtle techniques needed to undo the majesty of John's slim kiddy-belt, but he can't ignore how quickly John had shut up.

John--excited, chatty, sarcastic, snark-up-his-sleeve John--had gone quiet.

John's just staring, now, watching in heavy silence as if his waist were the last place he'd ever expect to find Karkat's clumsy fingers, and somehow this reaction manages to make Karkat even shakier than before. Karkat feels John's eyes bearing down on him, and Karkat's afraid of fucking up now more than ever. There were many situations in which Karkat could get over John thinking he was an idiot. This was not one of them.

Karkat glances around as if a topic of proper conversation was written within the sheets.

"...has your bed always been this big?"

What a stupid fucking question.

John takes a few seconds to process it. He's too captured by the way Karkat's fingers fumble around the button of his pants.

"U--um. Yeah. I think so! Unless, you know, someone came in when I wasn't here and switched out my bed for a bigger bed that looks just like my old bed. Which doesn't make any sense, y'know, seeing as I've been home the whole day! Not to mention it would be a pretty lame prank in the first place. And they would also had to have switched out my bedframe to hold a bigger bed, too, but I am pretty sure this is the original one, see, it's still got that notch in the headboard from when I--"

"You're word vomiting, John."

"Word vomiting? Hahaha, I am _so_ not word vomiting," he near-whimpers, listening to the distinct metallic rip of his zipper being tugged down, "you told me that thing was only a thing that I did when I was nervous and I am definitely _not_ nervous right now because people who make love aren't ever nervous! They are always really confident and suave because being nervous is not attractive, and if you're nervous while you are doing it then you are probably doing it wrong. Why, are you nervous?"

"Of course not," Karkat doesn't mean for his voice to waver so badly, "that would be fucking stupid."

"Yeah, exactly, see, fucking stupid."

Holding his breath, Karkat shimmies down the Pants to embrace the Land of Blindingly White Briefs. He swallows hard, trying to steady his trembling hand as he traces the outline of the obvious bump at the front of John's underwear. The taller boy's hips twitch at the motion and Karkat steals the chance to kiss him, chaste and soft.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Karkat asks, looking very serious. His fingers are now doing some sort of apprehensive tap dance across John's crotch. "We don't have to do this right the fuck now if you--I don't _want_ to do this right the fuck now if you don't."

For some reason, this seems to ease John down a bit.

"Relax, man, I'm okay," he laughs shakily, kissing the spot between Karkat's eyes. "Just promise you won't laugh."

"Give me some credit here." Karkat hooks his thumbs under the elastic waistband, tugging John's underwear down and bringing him out into the open. "I'm not THAT much of an insensitive grubfuc--"

Karkat looks down, and his mouth goes dry. It was so incredibly _unlike_ what he was used to, and the realization sends a new wave of worry surging through him--what if they were _too_ different from one another, what if John got freaked out by what he found later on, what if _John_ was the one who ended up laughing?

Realizing he's staring, Karkat curls his hand around John to get a feel for him, taking careful note of the way John breathes a pleased inhale. John is very warm, and smooth, and _rigid_ , just big enough to peek out an inch or two from the top of Karkat's grasp.

Karkat is immediately ashamed to find this particular quality endearing.

He mentally files said particular quality with all the other things he is ashamed to find endearing about John, somewhere between the way John's eyes glaze over with adoration whenever Liv Tyler appears on the screen, and the way John's fingers twitch in his sleep when he dreams about playing piano.

Karkat's grasp grows firm and he gives an experimental tug. John grimaces, squeaking out a strangled, worrisome noise; Karkat jolts, and looks up sharply.

"Fuck--sorry."

"J--Jesus, Karkat, be careful, alright? I don't want to end up dickless, here."

"...yes, it's true. This man has no dick."

"Ohohoho my gosh, you are not quoting Ghostbusters with me right now."

"You started it, asswipe." Karkat's brow pulls together in confusion. "Listen, I'm really fucking sorry to ask this, but could you show me how to--"

John is already wrapping his hand over Karkat's, guiding him to make the proper strokes.

Karkat finds a fascinating rhythm to it, and picks up on it at once.

John lets go and watches Karkat's hand pumping against him. His mind flickers to all the times he's done this kind of thing alone, shamefully curled in on himself in the privacy of the dark beneath his covers, but the vision of someone else's fingers curved around the length of him, the sight and sensation of being touched by someone he cared for very much, makes the whole thing feel very, very surreal.

Unlike John, Karkat isn't looking down, anymore. He's watching John's face for more reactions, every light tug of his brow, every hiccup of a breath, every tiny, trembling sigh. John's body is making small shifts, trying to get closer; his buck-teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and it's filling Karkat with thoughts, awful, wonderful, terrible thoughts.

What bothers Karkat, though, is that John is _silent_.

Karkat catches John by surprise with subtle kisses down John's jaw, careful, calculated flicks of his wrist, varying pressure in the up and down and up and down repetition of his movements. John becomes slick with a strange clear fluid that beads from the tip of him and yeah that's a little weird but it makes the motions smoother; Karkat's thumb slips along the top of him by accident, and there's a small gasp from John Karkat clings to the already fading memory of.

"Karkat--stop, stop."

Though surprised, Karkat stops at once. "Did that hurt?"

"N--no, dude, not at all, just." John holds Karkat's face, offering a breathless little smile. "C'mon, I wanna see you, too."

Karkat can feel the threadbare remnants of the fabric of his reserve unravel at the sight. He couldn't deny that handsome goddamned smile, not that he could imagine ever wanting to.

John blinks his eyes open to focus through the haze of arousal clouding his mind. He still craved more than what they were doing right now and the feeling was overpowering--a little scary, but a little exciting at the same time. Warmth pools in his lower stomach, creeping up his inner thighs; he needed movement, and kissing, and warmth, and he gets all three as his hands cradle the sides of Karkat's neck, pushing him to lay him back down on the bed.

The troll hates the way anxiousness tenses his entire body at once; asking to leave his shirt on simply because he felt vulnerable without it was one thing, but he couldn't hide away from what was coming next. His blush feels like needles prickling his face from the inside of his cheeks. John's already between his legs. Everything's moving so damn _fast_. 

John relieves Karkat of his pants _and_ his banana-patterned boxer shorts with a single, gentle movement. Karkat's stomach does a weird flippy thing that straddles the roller-coasteresque line between thrill and wanting to throw up.

"You...have both."

Inadequacy settles in Karkat's gut like a brick.

"Grmsphrr," he says, pressing his palms to his face. "Is this too fucking weird for you? It's okay if this is too fucking weird for you."

"No no no! It's just different, is all!" John tilts his head, staring. "Do all trolls have both?"

"It's only considered _both_ from your weird fucking split biology's point of view, we all come out of the cocoon like this to choose a side and develop secondary characteristics based on what we eat and how we train, but yeah, I guess everyone's the same far as I fucking know, it's easier to fill quadrants when everyone's the same."

John actually _smiles_ , the bastard, while he leaves a soft kiss against Karkat's lower stomach. "You're word vomiting."

"Fuck you," is the reply.

John decides only Karkat could manage to make that sound endearing.

Now that the spotlight is no longer on him, the nervousness disappears from John's voice. Anxiousness is replaced with a mixture of curiosity and fascination, and John's eyes pass over Karkat in a way that gives the troll a newfound sense of sympathy for parasites on a microscope slide.

"So...this is a nook."

"Yeah."

He sounds so _interested_.

"And," John continues, stroking a small opening above Karkat's nook that showed the tiniest nub of something slender and worm-like, nearly as grey as the troll's skin but tinted red, "is this a bone bulge? How do you--"

"That isn't--that's not _all_ of it, okay, bone bulges are inside, you have to kind of." Cue vague, dismissive hand gesture. "Coax it out. But that doesn't really fucking matter, you don't have to go there. You can. You know. With my nook, if you wanted to. That's closest to how human males normally do it, right? With females?"

John frowns. "But you're a boy."

"No shit, jerkwad, but the way we do this doesn't fucking matter to me, remember? I figured you'd be more comfortable with--"

"Karkat, I don't..." He looks mildly distressed. "I'd. Like to try that, sure, but I don't want you thinking us doing something like that is me treating you like a human girl! You _aren't_ one and I don't want you to think I'm more comfortable _thinking_ of you as one because you're just. You! And I am comfortable with all of you."

"Well...fuck." Grimacing, Karkat blushes, heavily, as John kisses the corner of his eyebrow. "Even my eye boners?"

"Even your eye boners."

Karkat cracks a toothy overbite smile for the first time in what feels like forever. "I didn't mean to imply shit, alright? I just wanted you to do whatever felt more natural for you."

"It's you, Karkat. You are all natural."

"Pffft. More like. _Au naturel_."

"Hehehehe, it's funny 'cause we're naked."

"Shit, that reminds me..." Karkat glances around. "Do we have a bucket?"

"A what?"

"A _bucket_ , asshole, if you're actually going to sit there fondling my fucking bone bulge, I'm going to need one."

"Oh right okay. Uh. Just a sec."

John hobbles awkwardly off the bed. His pants slide down to his ankles and he half-trips over himself three steps away, but he manages to kick his bottoms off without falling on his ass before grabbing a sizeable black pail from the back of his closet.

Karkat skirts his reaction to John _having_ a sizeable black pail in the back of his damn closet by instead reacting to John wearing nothing but his socks, John looking flustered as he returns to the mattress to sit on his knees, John holding a bucket in his lap and hiding his shame.

(John's butt was really pale compared to the rest of his body. Karkat vaguely wondered why.)

"I, uh." John laughs, uneasy. "Always keep one handy for pranks! But obviously this one will have to retire soon. This can be our special...bucket."

Karkat--angry, cursing, cynical, bundle-of-frustration Karkat--is now clearly flustered, and John can't help but laugh at his expression.

"What's so fucking funny _now_?"

"I'm sorry, Karkat, I can't take the bucket seriously! It is a bucket. 'Bucket' alone is a hilarious word! Prime comedy gold!"

"God, try showing some cultural fucking sensitivity here, alright? If anything, try to drag your drainempty think pan from the clouds and remember you have _white fucking sheets_. Seriously, this is more out of courtesy for your bedding than it is for my goddamned benefit."

"But you _like_ the bucket."

"I. What."

His face still red, John holds the container up and nuzzles it before dragging his tongue comically along the side of the brim. Karkat doesn't avert his eyes for a moment; he makes a quick reach for another pillow to hide the lower half of his face.

"...John, you are fucking _filthy_."

"Don't lie to me, Karkat, this is probably the single most erotic thing you have ever seen in your whole entire life."

Karkat presses his whole face into the pillow, but John sets the pail aside and gently tugs at his wrists, showing him an innocent smile.

"You're so cute."

"Don't fucking mock me."

"I'm not! I am being one hundred percent honest." At once, John reaches down and begins touching the little protrusion above Karkat's nook. "So do I just start rubbing here, or...?"

He's so _eager_.

"Yeah, that's." Karkat makes a small, pathetic noise that makes him hate himself a little more. "That's good. Great."

John presses his temple to Karkat's and starts humming the chorus to _Genie In A Bottle_. Karkat feels like his face is on fire.

'Keeping quiet' has never been one of Karkat's strong points. To John's wide-eyed realization, this situation was no exception.

Wrenching his eyes shut, Karkat starts _whining_ , whimpering broken-voiced nonsense into the pillow he'd been strangling to its untimely fluffy death. The noises strike a chord in John that turns him on so badly it starts to make him dizzy.

He needed to get Karkat going. Fast.

"...c'mon, little guy."

Karkat successfully breaks his pillow's neck.

John Egbert was talking to his fucking bulge.

"Come on out. I'm not gonna hurt you."

And the worst thing was it was _working_.

Karkat's toes curl.

John watches as Karkat's bulge slides out in one soft movement, weaving its way between his slender fingers, warm and slightly sticky with genetic material. Karkat is a bit narrower than John is near the top, but he grows wider at the base; he's long and firm, yet astonishingly smooth, like a tendril of prehensile silk. John begins wiggling his fingers, and both it and Karkat react immediately; it clings tighter around John's fingers, while Karkat clings tighter around his recently deceased pillow.

"Heheheeey, I think it likes me."

Karkat makes a sharp, pleased sound in reply, and John can't keep himself from smiling. There's an inexplicable intimacy in realizing this was the most delicate part of him, in knowing he was the only other person in the world Karkat would trust with something like this.

"This is really cool," John whispers, his eyes brightening. "Gosh, it's so _weird-looking_."

" _I am going to defecate on everything you love_."

"Ha ha, gross."

" _Shit_ ," Karkat hisses, clawing at the pillowcase. He's talking very fast. "John, I think now's a good time to put up a bold disclaimer--surprise! I'm actually a mutated fucking freak."

"...oh, god. What are you talking about this time, dude?"

"I only have one. Down there. Normal trolls have at least two or three or more but I'm--"

John interrupts him with a kiss. "You're fine."

"But--"

"You're perfect!"

"I--"

"Shhhhh."

And he does this _thing_ with his pinky that makes Karkat see stars.

" _F--fuck_ , John,” Karkat huffs. His whole body is squirming under John's hand. "How are you so fucking _good_ at this?"

The compliment makes John's ears go red. He shrugs. "It's. Sorta like playing piano with one hand."

"...what are you playing right now."

"...Flight of the Bumblebee."

"...god."

John starts moving his fingers faster and more rhythmically, sending Karkat spiralling into a series of cotton-muffled curses that makes John press his nose to Karkat's head and sigh, hopeless and needy and frustrated. Unable to handle the neglect any longer, John moves his other hand down to work against himself. It was starting to get painful.

"Karkat," he breathes softly into the other boy's hair, "please."

Karkat moves to kiss him, hard, and it goes straight to John's head.

Karkat seizes John by the shoulders and pulls John down on top of him. The pillow gets sandwiched between their chests, but somehow it's comfier that way. John moves to take his glasses off. Karkat hangs onto his wrist.

"Leave them, they look good on your face."

"Oh. Okay."

John has a mild moment of panic as Karkat completely takes over; the troll's hands seem to be everywhere at once, nails tracing John's back, gracing the sides of his thighs, grasping any part of John just to bring them closer to each other. There are fleeting memories of how unseemly internet pop-ups revealed the mystery of how intercourse between two guys is supposed to go. The thought makes John nervous in a bad way and he's not sure if he wants to do that right now, or later, or ever, really, but he'd declined Karkat's offer to do it the _other_ way, so what else was left?

They're losing track of each breath and John's _anxious_ again, skin flushed while Karkat glances down between them. John watches Karkat take his tendril back into his own hands and John wonders what on earth Karkat's trying to do _now_ , how they'll _possibly_ fit together from this angle, if he'll have to _interrupt_ when Karkat makes a reach for his...well, his _butt_ , whether they were _too_ incompatible to not be doomed to a lifetime of quiet self-servicing beneath the covers in the dark, but no, Karkat pushes his lips to John's neck and his hips jerk and his bulge slides to coil around John's length and it _squeezes_ and all the good in the world seems to coalesce and trickle down John's spine like liquid electricity and. _Oh_.

Karkat's thighs press around John's waist and he starts _stroking_ ; John instinctively bucks into Karkat's newfound hold on him, but John looks embarrassed almost immediately afterwards.

"G--gosh, sorr--"

"Don't be," Karkat blurts out. "Is this alright? Are you alright?"

"Y--yeah. This is. Great. Perfect. Really. Yeah."

"How fucking coherent of you."

"Shut _up_."

It's then John realizes Karkat is smiling.

Happiness pinches the grey skin at the corners of his bright yellow eyes, a little strained, but he's _smiling_.

John acts on the sudden urge to hug him, to hold him close, to tuck their bodies safely together, and Karkat lets him, even hugs him back, resting his chin against John's shoulder, moaning into it with breathless keening. There's unevenness in their timing at first, John's shallow thrusting combined with Karkat's deep, slow strokes, but they find a rhythm to hold onto, eventually. Karkat's words are spilling out between a shower of sounds, gasping, minimal groans of effort; his back arches off the bed and he slips into Alternian, unwitting, spindling rough, sharp foreign words as he stares at a crack in the ceiling.

John almost doubles over as he listens to what is now his favourite sound in the whole entire world.

"Oh my _god_ ," he whispers.

Karkat quiets down. "Am I doing this okay?"

Biting his tongue, John nods.

"Y--you can fucking make noise, too. You know. If you want."

John shakes his head.

"Why the fuck not?"

"It'sreallyembarrassing."

"...oh."

"No no no, it's not--it's not embarrassing when _you_ do it! You've always been really loud, it makes sense that you--"

Karkat buries himself against John's shoulder and shuts up all at once.

"Noooooooo, Karkat, I'm sorry! I really like hearing you!"

Karkat isn't making any sounds anymore. There's no crickety chirping, no voiced breathing, no moans, no cool accidental alien language, nothing, there's _nothing_ but a heavy, awkward, uncomfortable silence that makes John's heart sink to his knees.

"Karkaaaaat."

"I just..." he finally starts, soft and quiet, and he sounds so terribly helpless, "it fucking scares me that you're not making any noise at all because I feel like I'm fucking something up here."

"I--okay." John's voice is strangled. "What...what do I say?"

"Anything! What--whatever the fucking fuck you want, just stop trying to hold it back, I need to know you're enjoying this."

"...can you start. You know. Making noise again first?"

"Fucking hell," he moans, loudly.

John doesn't really know what Karkat means by 'holding it back', and conversely, he doesn't quite know how to let go. He stutters his breath when Karkat picks up the pace and strokes him just that little bit faster, and John decides yes, good, this was a solid start, much better than silence, at least. He doesn't understand how any weird stupid noises he makes can sound half as wonderful as Karkat does right now, but he tries anyway.

"Kar--Karkat, Karkat, g--gosh, _Karkat_."

Karkat presses their foreheads together, kissing the corners of John's mouth in desperation as he hears his own name fall from it over and over and over again. John tries to catch Karkat's lips and shares a shy glance and Karkat quickly concludes that the poolwater blue underside of every bottlecap in the world couldn't match the hue of John's eyes.

John cradles the back of Karkat's head. He means to whisper Karkat's name again, but inexplicably says, "I love you."

Somehow, it carries a weight different from all the times it's been said before.

Karkat hugs him tighter. "...John?"

"I'm really, really happy with you, Karkat," he chimes. The smile is in his voice. "So happy. The happiest."

Between John and the connection they were sharing both up here and down there and the dead pillow still squished between the two of them, Karkat begins feeling light-headed.

It's all too much to take in at the same time.

Something inside of him breaks.

"Karkat?" John turns his head. "Karka--are you okay? You look like you're in pain."

"YeahnofuckI'mfine."

"But your face is all scrunchy."

"Then stop looking at my stupid fucking face."

"But I like your stupid fucking face."

A pale red tear is squeezed out from the corner of Karkat's right eye, sliding down the angle of his cheek. John fills with panic again.

"...dude, are you _crying_?"

"No, you oblivious fucking scrubknocker, water is just leaking out of my fucking eyes for no good goddamned reason." Another tear slips from his other eye. He sounds stuffy when he speaks. "Fucking shit, I'm sorry I'm ruining it."

"You're not!" John giggles, rubbing their noses together. He realizes it's probably inappropriate to be giggling at a time like this. Oh well. "I just wanna make sure you're okay!"

"I told you, I'm fucking fine." He sniffles. "Just being an idiot and thinking about how much I love you. Spoiler alert, it's a stupidly fucking large amount."

"As large as the red globe of your firey self-hating rage?"

Karkat sneers and presses against John's face, shaking more tears from his eyes. "Fuck, I think I might love you more than I hate myself."

"Awww, Karkat, that's actually really sad!" John's eyes glass over when they touch foreheads again. "C'mon, man, i--if you cry, I'm going to start crying, and. I love you, okay? I love you so much sometimes it feels like my heart's going to explode but then it doesn't because you're really close to my heart so you'd be in the blast radius and that would be really bad."

"Fuck, you are seriously the best fucking thing, I don't know what the hell I did for fate to throw someone like you together with a piece of shit like me, but I'm grateful, I'm so fucking grateful."

"Doofus, I'm the one who's grateful."

"Shut the fuck up, dipshit, you're not allowed to be grateful when I'm the luckiest goddamned troll in this fucked-up universe."

"And I'm the luckiest human, dorksponge."

"Dingbat."

"Douchewaffle."

"Dumbfuck."

John kisses a tear away. "Darling."

There's warmth in Karkat's smile.

The words between them begin dying as they hold one another close. Shared heat and friction consume them, tired breaths and terrible cases of hoverhand as they wonder where said hands should be placed. They end up tangling fingers, tightly, John pinning Karkat's hands down against the mattress, to either side of the troll's head, gaining leverage as their bodies push against each other. Karkat is determined to carry John all the way there, wrapping and stroking and swirling the end of himself around John's sensitive tip, the slight dripping of sticky fluids from the both of them gliding Karkat's movements, smooth and unhindered in the most wonderful of ways. John's mouth falls open and he's _panting_ , now, Karkat's name gasped breathless, over and over into the air.

Karkat's rocking in place, in time with John, whispering what sounds like gentle encouragements in hushed Alternian; he kisses John's ear, and it's over.

"Oh my gosh, _Karkat_ \--"

His body goes still.

John closes his eyes and squeezes Karkat's hands and feels the entire world fall to pieces around him. Lightning flashes behind his eyelids. His voice breaks on Karkat's name.

Karkat clings to John's hands, staring at the crack in the ceiling wide-eyed and horrified as a massive fucking breeze sweeps through the room and knocks nearly everything asunder.

John's entire body relaxes at once. He instantly smothers Karkat's face with kisses and drunken giggles.

Karkat does not move.

"...what the fuck was that."

Unaware, John gives him a drowsy smile, leaving a lazy kiss on the bridge of his nose. "What the fuck was what?"

"...never mind."

John takes a moment to glance down and realizes Karkat's bulge is still wrapped around him, a little swollen, straining in place.

"O--oh gosh, you're not done! I'm sorry!"

"Don't fucking apologize, it's fine." Karkat uncoils himself. He's shaking and incredibly flushed as he moves to turn on his side, grabbing the pail from the side of the bed. "You finished first, that's a _good_ thing, I'll just _jesusfuck_ \--"

John has assumed the role of the big spoon. His hand is already playing against Karkat again, his other hand tucked under the troll and holding the bucket in place. Karkat sputters more curses, but doesn't object. Not in the slightest.

"C'mon, Karkat," John whispers softly while humming classical music against Karkat's temple. "That's it."

Karkat's climax lasts much longer than John's does.

John's eyes widen, dumbstruck, at the sight and sound and feel of Karkat's body _writhing_ against the sheets, pushing back against John as he lets loose with the most eloquent string of Alternian-melded-with-English-curse-words John has ever heard. The helpless strain of desperation is almost enough to get John going again, but eventually Karkat sinks into the mattress, easing in John's arms, trembling head-to-toe in afterglow.

John peeks down into the bucket and is instantly thankful they used one.

"...wow."

"Fuck."

"...that is a _lot_."

"Fuck."

"...why does it smell _sweet_?"

"Fuck."

"...maybe we should take you to a troll doctor or something, this can't be a good sign."

"Did we just fucking make love for you to critique my goddamned genetic material?" he snaps. "You want to talk about weird, how about the fact yours smells like pool water and doesn't even have any fucking colour to it, how the fuck is _that_ a thing?"

"Okay, okay!" John laughs. "I don't really feel like comparing jizz right now."

John sets the bucket on the nightstand, out of the way, only turning back to see Karkat cowering in on himself to the side of the bed.

John scoops him up in his arms at once.

Karkat curls up against John as John rests his chin in Karkat's hair.

"Oh my god, you're shaking so much."

"Fuck you."

"You just did, though."

"Oh. Right."

They laugh obnoxiously into one another, and the silence they taper off to holds an odd sense of comfort and content. John holds Karkat until Karkat stops shaking. Karkat holds John until the rest of the world feels real again.

Finally, John sighs, happily, and holds up his fist. "That was awesome."

Karkat fistbumps without missing a beat. "Our mangrit licenses are in the fucking bag."

"Yeah, I--woah!" John sits up, quickly. "Why's my room so messy all of a sudden??"

Karkat hugs John back down to his level, softly papping the back of his head. "Shhh."

"But--"

"Shhhhhh, don't speak."

**Author's Note:**

> Fanart by Casey - _[“I like you! All of you! Even your weird alien eye boners.”](http://thegamergirl.tumblr.com/post/18307529820/butterwitch-i-like-you-all-of-you-even-your)_
> 
> Fanart by Rasuzu - _[[NSFW]](http://thegamergirl.tumblr.com/post/19969446439/andys-woody-i-promised-fivetail-that-i-would)_


End file.
